Pumpkintide (incipit)

The season fast approacheth (now that Nature's festivities are through and she retreats to southern climes to wait out the Winter months) wherein we mortals must devise our own merry-making. It is our good fortune that among the remnants of Nature's revels we find the Pumpkin--orange-orbicular; Monarch of the Winter Squash. Wisemen have determined that the perfection of Pumpkin exceeds the possibilities of Chance, and that this brilliant fruit therefore, could only be an artifact from the workshop of gods. I wish to take no side in such debates, though I have at times perceived a hint of divinity that haunts about these half-hollow spheres, accompanied by a vague urge to prostrate oneself in idolatry before their global orangeness. But these may have been the vain imaginings of an humble pumpkin-lover. Be that as it may, the holiday-making spirit fortifies us against the tide of despondency that comes with the impending gloom. So it is in this spirit that we resolve a month-long celebration of the Pumpkin and its multiformal kin. This royalty must by nature be not unattended. Therefore do we pair with it various legumes; subjects of the November monarchy.
Our stores are stocked; our holds are full; our vessel floateth low with a load of squash and beans. Let the season begin! May we honor our cülinary tradition!